Of Pranks And Counterfeit Report Cards
by 00Fangirl
Summary: Gilbert will stop at nothing to fight for the grade he rightfully deserves, even if it involves a bit of illegal activity along the way. Gakuen AU.


**Don't hate me for not updating my other stories and starting up a completely new one *hides in a corner.* I was re-watching one of my favorite movies _ever_ it's called Accepted and this beautiful idea sprouted from it and it was one of those things that just couldn't wait.  
>As for the status of my other stories, I am working on the re-writes one story at a time, and then I will be updating regularly from then on. I also have a <em>crap<em> ton of One-shots written and being edited which I will post every once in a while so you guys know I'm not dead :D  
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**There will be pairings in this, but it will not be the ****_main _****focus point of the story. They are Fruk, Spamano, and Prucan, I will try to keep them subtle, but you can't blame a fangirl for shipping XD. **

**Gosh, I should be asleep, school starts in less than nine hours... Enjoy! Sorry for the ridiculously long author's note this time, guys. They will become short soon, promise. :D**

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><p>~Prologue~<p>

Gilbert Beilschmidt had always been one of the more… _troublesome_ youth at World Academy. He was known for his outrageous pranks and elaborate stunts – it was no mystery who "accidently" blew up the biology lab right before a big mid-term on their first year. Of course, he had always had been a bit on the delinquent side of the spectrum, but his high school years wouldn't have been made possible without the help of his older sister.

Julchen was one of the most despised alumni of her time – by the faculty that is. From things like setting a clear push-pin on a teacher's seat before class to setting all the frogs used for experimentation free, it was no wonder she graduated with a disciplinary portfolio the size of her head. When the staff heard that two more Beilschmidt's were going to be enrolled in her gradating year, they nearly had simultaneous heart attacks.

Lucky for them, Ludwig was one of the, if not _the_, most hardworking students in the entire academy. He was the light that offset the complete lunacy of the older Beilschmidt's.

So it was no surprise when Gilbert's last year was spent a bit _too_ exuberant. In the course of three months he had managed to: _accidently _set off the fire alarm… _twice_, transfer all the money his ex-girlfriend's dance team fundraised for new uniforms to the LGBT society – she didn't seem to care, she actually loved the idea and was kicked out of the team a bit later for it, and start _three _food fights – one every first Tuesday of the month. And each time he managed to come out either completely free or with back to back detentions.

Which is where our beloved hero sat now. Tuesday afternoon, stuck in a stuffy old chemistry classroom with one of the most boring teachers in existence, to say he was annoyed would be an understatement. The teacher, Mr. Yao, didn't allow sleeping, eating, texting, or talking, all things Gilbert wanted to do or else he would lose the last bit of his sanity.

He let out a long, boisterous groan and let his head slam onto the wooden desk repeatedly. Mr. Yao looked up from his ridiculous amount of papers – why a teacher would focus so much energy on assigning homework to spend their free time grading, he had no idea – and rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, would you please refrain from banging your head on the table?"

Gilbert stopped mid-slam and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Mr. Yao would you please refrain from calling me Mr. Beilschmidt. I find it demeaning to my personality. Call me Gilbert."

It took all forms of self-restraint for the chemistry teacher to stop from yelling at him. Instead, he opted for taunting him a bit. "I hope you know, _Gilbert_, that you are failing my class. I put in a couple grades last night and you are at a 43 F."

"You're bluffing." All traces of malice disappeared at the shake of a head. There was no way in _hell_ his grade was that low. Science was always one of his best subjects.

"Come look, I'll be happy to show you."

Gilbert pushed himself up from the desk, the extra force put into the action caused his chair to fall back behind him. He walked over to the teacher, hands stuffed deep into his pockets and eyes wide and childlike. When he peered over his shoulder, he saw that it was, in fact, no bluff. He did notice, though, a few discrepancies.

"How come Alfred has a D, and Lily, and-." Before he could continue, Mr. Yao slapped his hand over the screen and exited out of the window.

"Student-teacher confidentiality."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I call bull-."

A series of loud, incessant knocks filled the room. Green eyes, that were visible from the small window of the door, shot around frantically. "Mr. Yao! You have to come quick!" Gilbert smirked at the Spanish accent.

The teacher stood up and opened the door, shooting a surprised look at his student. "Antonio, what is-?"

"There's a fight," Antonio started, his breath labored. "It's in the main courtyard. Two girls from the varsity soccer team, the coach is nowhere in sight." While Mr. Yao busied himself digging for his keys in his pocket, Gilbert snatched his phone back from the drawer.

"I'm locking this room from the inside, Gilbert. You better be here when I get back."

Gilbert plopped down on the chair closest to Mr. Yao's desk and kicked his feet on top of the table. "Wouldn't dream of leaving, pops." Mr. Yao huffed and ran off, following Antonio to the scene.

Once they were a reasonable distance away, Gilbert grabbed his bag from the floor and headed toward the slightly cracked window. It was a two-story drop, but the bottom was guarded by flowerless shrubs, so he wasn't worried –plus he's made the jump over a dozen times before. He flung his backpack over first, then dropped down behind it, surprised that the object made the landing decent.

Before he could get caught, he ran off toward the familiar Jeep in the parking lot.

. . .

"This is stupid." Gilbert growled, fists colliding angrily with the punching bag in front of him. He had only been in the gym five minutes and he was already working up a sweat trying to release his pent up aggression.

"What is, _mon ami_?" Francis sat on a bench press, eyes focused on the reruns of a strange American soap opera from the 90's. He wasn't really one to work out, and he wouldn't consider even _being_ in a gym if it weren't for his idiotic best friends. Every Tuesday and Thursday was gym day for the trio, much to his displeasure.

Gilbert's eyes flickered to Francis' baffled expression before sending an even harder set of punches at the bag. "Mr. Yao is failing his entire class." Just saying the words made him livid. "That dinosaur is going get what's coming, _auch wenn es das letzte, was ich tun_."

Francis chuckled. "You know, just because you say it in German, doesn't make it any more intimidating."

"Yes it does." Antonio defended from the treadmill, breath labored. "What do you mean he's failing everyone?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "What do you think it means, _idiota_?" The roughness of his natural German accent made his mock Spanish one hilarious.

"Sorry." He shot his hands up in defense. "I'm just worried. Coach says that if I have an F this year that I won't make it on the team."

"You better start looking for a new team then, 'cause you have one too."

Francis tore his eyes away from the screen and toward his best friend. "That is absolutely ridiculous, Gil. There is no way that he is failing the _entire _class." His blue eyes were filled to the brim with worry. An F on his report card meant that he would lose his culinary scholarship.

"You too, Frenchie. You are how your people say, _le fucked_." Antonio laughed obnoxiously at the joke, but stopped when a water bottle was thrown at his side, almost knocking him down. He muttered a weak _sorry_.

"That _is _not funny." Francis muttered as he crossed his arms.

Gilbert shook the sweat from his hair, much like a dog would shake water from its fur. "Sorry, princess, the truth hurts sometimes."

The trio fell quiet for a bit, the only noise being the dull roar of the television and the various machines currently in use throughout the local gym. The silence was soon ended with one of Gilbert's bizarre, ridiculous smirks. The one that meant trouble.

"_Mon Dieu_, what is going on in that twisted little head of yours?"

The self-proclaimed Prussian chuckled shook his head, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his neck and face. "Mr. Yao is going _down_." He did not speak another word the rest of the workout session, causing fear to bubble up in Francis and Antonio's chest.

Gilbert was plotting something and that was never a good thing.

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><p><em>auch wenn es das letzte, was ich tun (Gr. according to google translate, so i'm sorry if it's off) - <em>even if it's the last thing I do.


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